For a Father's Pride Read Online Free PDF Page B

held the baby up for Tom to see.
    ‘I don’t want to look at that bastard.’ Tom turned his head.
    Martha knew better than to push it – he’d come round. ‘I’ll go and tell Daisy he’s alive, and give him to her.’ She rose from her chair, ignoring Tom’s
hard words.
    ‘She thinks he’s dead?’
    ‘Aye, he didn’t breathe for a good few minutes – not until I washed him, for what I thought was his burial.’ Martha smiled at the little face.
    ‘Well, tell her no different, because the baby goes to Grouse Hall in the morning. His father is going to have him, and our Kitty will never know he’s her sister’s. Now take
him out of my sight. I can’t abide to think of how he got brought into the world.’
    ‘And Daisy?’ Martha looked at her husband.
    ‘I’ll give her till the end of the week, and then she goes. Every time I look at her I think of what she’s done to this family. She’s nothing but a whore!’
Tom’s face turned red, remembering the smiles he’d seen Daisy give to Clifford Middleton and her near-tears at Kitty’s wedding. ‘She’s no daughter of mine, and
she’s not welcome under my roof.’
    The wind howled and the rain lashed down on the silent couple huddled on the seat of the cart. The horse’s harness jangled and shook, as it pulled the cart of misery up
the steep hill-climb out of Widdale and onto the rough moorland of Dent Head, the horse’s head bent lowly, as if in shame itself, as it used each muscle on the steep fell-climb. Tom Fraser
had said nothing as his wife had helped Daisy up beside him; he’d seen the tears in his wife’s eyes and heard her sobs from under her shawl. It was no good – his mind was made up.
The lass had to find her own way in the world. She was no longer welcome under his roof, and he’d not go back on his word.
    He’d not said anything when Martha had forced a florin into Daisy’s hand; after all, he’d have to be Christian about it, and make sure she didn’t starve until she found
work. Daisy had said nothing, cringing from her father’s hand as he tried to help her up to her seat next to him. All the trust had been beaten out of her, and where there had been love in
her eyes for her father there now burned hate. Not a word had been spoken since leaving Grisedale at first light. The horse and cart made their way out of Grisedale up the broader sweep of
Garsdale, skirting through the sleeping village of Appersett, over the bridge and up the gillside road to Widdale and Dent Head. It was there that Tom was going to abandon Daisy; she could make her
own mind up about where to go from there. She could either turn right down into Dent or go on to Ingleton, or even further if she’d a notion. The horse eased itself back into an easier stride
as the summit of Widdale was reached and they steadily pulled the cart past the dwelling place of Dent Head. The house looked in darkness as the mist and rain tried to envelop it in nature’s
cloak.
    ‘Right, down you get. This is far enough – tha’ll not be walking back home in a hurry.’ Tom pulled on the horse’s reins and put the brake on.
    Daisy pulled her cloak’s hood back and removed the sacking that had been giving her a bit of protection from the elements. She looked around her at the bleak setting: the mists shifting
and banking around the looming fells, and the rushes bent double in the wind and rain. She was used to Grisedale looking like this on a wild day, but she always knew there was a warm, dry home
waiting for her. Today she was on her own against the elements, with no home and no one to love her. But no matter how wild the weather was, she would not attempt to walk home, so her father
needn’t be afeared of that.
    Tom never stirred from his cart as his daughter climbed down onto the cobbled road. He watched her for a minute as she looked around her, deciding where to go. His heart hurt as he saw her take
the first few steps down the road to Ingleton, never